


Sticky Notes

by Qitana



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AU where otabek gave up skating after that class he took with yuri and pursued music, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Basically, Fluff, M/M, Otabek is in a band, Piercings, Post-it Notes, Snark, Tattoos, Yuri and his A+ potty mouth, and sexy stuff, and so much sass, like ridiculous amounts of it, more like i adjusted the ages, this fic is an excuse for me to write lots of fluff, yuri is majoring in CS
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-19 11:41:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11312661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qitana/pseuds/Qitana
Summary: As Yuri's hand wanders into his satchel, fingers searching for the familiar feeling of a key, a splotch of yellow on his faded wood door catches his attention. It’s a post-it Yuri realizes; he leans in a little, and takes in the neat scrawl, reading the words to himself softly.Sorry about the FFDP at the ungodly hour of three last night. I promise to keep it down from now on.Yuri reads the words over and over, memorizing the two lines till the stranger’s handwriting is imprinted into his mind. Pulling his hand out of his bag, keyless, Yuri peels the piece of paper off slowly, making sure to keep it intact. He doesn’t realize he’s smiling till his cheeks begin to ache a little.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is just an excuse for me to write a lot of otayuri fluff in a college setting because y not
> 
> otabek and yuri havent met; rather, yuri doesnt remember him like in canon
> 
> also yuri is really, really smart .
> 
> and yuri and sara are friendgoals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a college au. 
> 
> i have no control

“You look like hell.” 

Yuri throws Sara a venomous look, earning him a hearty laugh and an arm thrown over his shoulders. 

“Wanna tell me what happened?” 

Yuri shrugs her off and takes a sip of water from his bottle. He wipes his mouth with the back of his palm and says, “So guess whose neighbor decides that the right time to blast some FFDP, _at top volume might I add_ , is three o’clock in the goddamn morning?”

Sara cringes and Yuri nods his head furiously. “That’s right, _mine_.” 

With a drawn out groan, he lets his forehead meet the desk, hands falling limp at his sides. 

“What did you do?” 

Yuri turns his head, letting his cheek rest against the cold surface. “Well, when I realized I couldn’t fall back asleep, I picked up Mr. Pickles and threw him against the wall.”

Sara gasps, “I gifted you Mr. Pickles.” 

Yuri dismisses her with a weak wave of his hand. “He’s fine, he’s fine. The impact wasn’t loud though, so I threw a Rubik’s cube next. _That_ did the job. Music went mute immediately.” Yuri sits up and sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I still didn’t fall asleep for at least an hour after.” 

Sara rubs his arm sympathetically. 

“I need beauty sleep to maintain this,” Yuri laments, gesturing to his face. Sara smiles lovingly. 

“I know Yurio, I know. Don’t worry, you look tired but you’re still pretty.” 

Yuri swats her wandering hands away and turns to face the front of the class just as their professor walks in. Pulling out his laptop, Yuri decides to focus all his energy into staying awake, even if this particular lecture is one of the more boring ones. 

He doesn’t last five minutes. 

~

The rest of Yuri’s day is uneventful but exhausting. Sara tries her best to keep his spirits up, but gives up sometime in the middle of their third lecture, opting to take notes and forward them to Yuri later. He’s grateful. 

As he trudges up the stairs to his fourth floor dorm room, a cup of coffee clutched tightly in his left hand, Yuri’s shoulders slump in relief when his door comes to view. Their dorm system is pretty nice actually- each tenant gets an individual room; small and a little cramped perhaps, but Yuri appreciates the privacy. He also has his own bathroom- even tinier, and not nearly spacious enough to store all his shit, but at least he keeps it clean. 

As his hand wanders into his satchel, fingers searching for the familiar feeling of a key, a splotch of yellow on his faded wood door catches Yuri’s attention. It’s a post-it Yuri realizes; he leans in a little, and takes in the neat scrawl, reading the words to himself softly. 

_Sorry about the FFDP at the ungodly hour of three last night. I promise to keep it down from now on._

Yuri reads the words over and over, memorizing the two lines till the stranger’s handwriting is imprinted into his mind. Pulling his hand out of his bag, keyless, Yuri peels the piece of paper off slowly, making sure to keep it intact. He doesn’t realize he’s smiling till his cheeks begin to ache a little. He immediately reassembles his feature into a scowl, and moves to crush the paper, except his hand _refuses_ to form a fist, and that stupid smile is tugging at the corner of his lips again, quite insistent. 

Yuri sighs, defeated, and when a quick scan of the corridor tells him he’s alone, he neatly folds the paper in two before carefully placing it in one of his notebooks. He rummages around the bag a little more and finally finds his key, the sharp metal digging into the flesh of his finger the way it always does. Unlocking his door in impatient, jerky movements, Yuri enters his room in a hurry and right after dumping his bag on the bed, he makes a beeline for his desk, eyes roving over the surface. He places the coffee cup down and picks up his green pen, and after looking in the third drawer of his desk, he finds a pad of blue post-it notes that Katsuki must’ve placed there when he’d dropped Yuri off. 

Yuri bites the inside of his cheek, mulling over what to write. Ideas flit through his mind one after the other, ranging from sarcastic and rude, to accepting and nice, to snarky and almost borderline flirty. In a fit of courage, Yuri jots down a messy _Well, apology not accepted. You owe me coffee for interrupting my much needed sleep_ and rips it off the pad. He practically sprints out of the room and smacks it on his neighbor’s door before hauling himself back into his own room and slamming the door shut. He resists the urge to go back out there and rip the paper off, pretending like it never happened. 

The truth of the matter is, Yuri’s been having a tough time be-friending people in the dorm. He has Sara in class, and Mila joins the two of them during the music elective, and Emil often accompanies them when they go out to grab a bite to eat. But his dorm life is _dry_ , to say the least. He could stand to make some pals. 

Of course, it repeatedly occurs to Yuri that his neighbor could be a complete and utter creep, or belong to a cult, or actually truly believe he’s a vampire and bite Yuri; he’s met some weird people in his life. But that evening when he leaves the dorm, the post it is nowhere to be found. There isn’t one on his door either, and Yuri feels both relieved and disappointed. Shrugging, he walks away, pulling his phone out to text Mila. 

~

“I’ll forward the notes to you,” Sara promises around the straw in her mouth. 

Yuri nods his thanks and twirls the noodles around his fork, till it makes a giant lump around the metal. 

“So,” Emil says, turning to face Sara, “how’s the band?”

Sara lights up like an honest to god Christmas tree, and it makes Yuri smile. Her enthusiasm is contagious, and her love for her band is almost scary. 

“We’re finally done covering that Five Finger Death Punch track, walk away? So Al wants to move to another band. I suggested Breaking Benjamin, I hope he says yes.”

“What time do you guys normally practice?” Yuri asks, eyes glued to his noodles. 

Sara hums low in her throat, “Well, we practice Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays after 6:30, till about 9.” She suddenly bumps Yuri with her shoulder, and he can _hear_ her grin. “Do you wanna come?” 

Yuri sticks his tongue out and shovels some noodles into his mouth. Chewing slowly, he makes sure to swallow everything before answering, “Maybe.” 

Sara laughs, loud and uninhibited, and Mila cracks a smile. “Tsundere bastard,” Sara croons lovingly, ruffling his hair. Yuri squawks and pushes her away, cheeks flaming. Emil chuckles and points a spoon at Yuri. 

“You’re in a good mood.” 

Mila hums in agreement, pushing another spoon of ice cream into her mouth. Yuri scrunches his nose in distaste, trying his damnest to change the subject. 

“Should you be eating that? Won’t your coach yell at you?” 

Mila shrugs, but the faint red hue of her ears give her away. “What he doesn’t know, cant hurt him. Besides, it’s practically criminal to keep ice cream away from a person.” 

Yuri rolls his eyes but his tactic works- the conversation shifts and pulls him away from the spotlight, so he resumes eating his noodles in peace. 

He fails to notice Sara’s eyes watching him intently, a small smile playing on her lips. 

~

There’s a note waiting for him when he gets back to the dorm, and Yuri will vehemently deny flat out _sprinting_ towards his door to get to it. It’s written in that same familiar scrawl, the yellow of the paper contrasting starkly against the brown wood. 

_Sounds fair. Ben’s at 9 tomorrow night sound ok?_

Yuri doesn’t even bother wiping the smile off his face- he unlocks his door in a jiffy, and grabs the pad of blue notes, jotting down a quick _Ok_. 

He walks outside and sticks it on the man’s door, but then a thought occurs to him. With the pen still clutched in his hand, Yuri alters the message and reads it over once before nodding to himself. He then walks into his own dorm and locks his door behind him. Stripping down to his boxers, Yuri pulls on an oversized shirt and yawns on his way to the bathroom. Five minutes later, he crawls under his sheets with a content sigh, the loving arms of sleep tugging him into dream land. 

His neighbor is greeted by a blue post it that evening with a message that makes him chuckle. 

_~~Ok~~_  
_But I don’t know what you look like? 9 sounds good though_

~

_I’ll be the one in the sum 41 shirt_

That’s the message on the note tucked away safely in Yuri’s wallet, and once again, Sara’s perceptive nature is proving to be a pain in the ass. 

“Tell me,” she whines, poking his cheek for the hundredth time. 

Yuri sighs, grabbing her finger and holding it midair. He looks at her; drinking in those dark purple irises, the warmth of her tan skin, the sincerity in her smile. Rolling his eyes affectionately, Yuri shifts in his seat, facing her. 

“Ok fine, I’ll tell you _but_ -“ Yuri holds her gaze, trying to be as serious as possible, “you gotta promise to _not_ be a bitch about it or tease me mercilessly.”

Sara pouts adorably, “Oh, you’re no fun.” Her smile returns and she shoves his shoulder playfully. “Ok ok I promise! Now spill.”

“So, you remember that night I told you about? When my neighbor interrupted my beauty sleep with loud music?” 

Sara nods. 

“Well, we’ve kinda been, uh, talking.”

“Uh huh.” Sara’s eyebrows are raised, her head cocked to the right, the question plastered across her face. 

Yuri groans. “It’s hard to explain ok? That night, after I came back to the dorm, there was a post it on my door with an apology, and I don’t know _why_ , but I replied to it with one of my own and one thing led to another and now we’re having coffee. Tonight. At Ben’s.”

Sara absorbs the information in silence, her eyes never leaving Yuri’s face. Yuri begins to sweat and tugs at the collar of his shirt, fanning his face a little. 

“Well,” he mutters, feeling his cheeks warm, “say something.” 

Sara hums thoughtfully. “Why did you respond the way that you did? Why write back at all?” 

Yuri looks away, his fingers fidgeting with the zipper of his jacket. “I just wanted someone to talk to back at the dorms, and this didn’t seem like a bad place to start.”

“That sounds fair,” Sara nods, to Yuri’s complete and utter amazement. “You want me to come? Just to make sure he isn’t a chainsaw killer or something?” 

Yuri sniggers, pulling the hoodie over his head. “It’s a busy time at Ben’s. I’ll be fine. I’ll text you after though.”

“Deal.”

“Sara?”

Sara looks up from her phone, “Hmm?”

“Thanks.” 

“Idiot,” she admonishes gently. “I’m your best friend. You should be able to talk to me about shit like this.”

Yuri slumps into his seat, an invisible weight lifting off his shoulders. He feels better, and in the off chance that his neighbor is a kidnapper, at least Sara is now aware of his potential last known location. That’s comforting. 

“So,” Sara starts offhandedly, “is _that_ what you’re wearing to a date?” 

Yuri splutters, his face turning six different shades of red. Yanking the hood even closer to his face, Yuri spews out an entire array of colorful curses, trying to gauge why he’d befriended Sara in the first place. She laughs, and Yuri feels betrayed.

~

“So, what’s your plan now?” 

Mila is walking beside Yuri, dressed appropriately for dance practice- a cute blue crop top, black leggings that are translucent at the sides, exposing stripes of her thighs, running shoes and red hair pulled up in an artfully messy bun. She’s a beauty, Yuri knows, and as they walk to her studio, they seem to be attracting the attention of both men and women alike, who stare in complete and utter awe. Yuri feels a sense of pride and a jab of irritation simultaneously. 

“I have no work today,” Yuri says, shrugging, “so I thought I’d go check out Sara’s band.” 

Mila’s eyes widen in surprise, “Yeah?” Yuri nods. “That sounds fun,” Mila laughs, slinging an arm over Yuri’s shoulder and yanking him close. “Have fun ok? And if she sucks, just tell her.”

Yuri huffs and rolls his eyes, “You really think I’d lie to Sara? Especially if she sucked?”

“True, true,” Mila muses, before giving Yuri a brief kiss on the cheek. “I gotta go hon, I’ll see you later alright?” 

“Yeah cool,” Yuri waves, “I wont make it for dinner today, so I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Mila eyes him curiously but lets it go because she’s late for practice. Yuri sighs in relief- he’d asked Sara to keep it secret for now, just to see how things would pan out. 

Sara had given him directions to the band’s practice room, which he realizes is a little ways off from the main campus. The college didn’t fund the band but they did give them attendance if they were off representing the university at a competition. They’d attended one just last week and had killed it apparently, earning them first place and some price money. Sara had bought them all shots, her treat. 

Yuri looks around curiously. He’s in a more quiet part of campus, surrounded by trees and the sound of birds cooing softly, everything around him painted in soft hues of gold and orange. The sun is slowly beginning to set, and one glance at his watch tells Yuri that it’s almost 6:30. 

He wanders around a little more, till the faintest strains of music reaches his ears. He begins following it blindly, and as it gets louder and louder, a building comes into view. It’s old but strong, made of brick that’s been marked by graffiti. Yuri stands in front of it and whips his phone out, taking a picture for his instagram. He walks around the building, following the music again till he’s standing in front of a slightly ajar door, the sound much clearer the closer he gets to the gap. 

Pushing the door slowly, so he doesn’t disturb the people inside, Yuri slips in as quietly as possible and walks along the wall, sinking to the floor quickly. He places his bag beside him and looks up finally, gasping quietly at the scene before him. 

To his left is a man with a black bass guitar, his fingers flying over the notes, an effortless smile on his face. His brown hair is pinned up by the cutest clips, and he doesn’t look very tall, his frame thin but lean. He’s wearing a fitted plain shirt with a few necklaces, and a tattoo peaks out near his neck. His leg taps in time to the beat. 

Sara is in the middle behind the drumset, a look of concentration decorating her delicate features as she practically pours her _soul_ into the song, keeping the rhythm perfectly. She isn’t looking at Yuri, but Yuri flashes her a fond smile anyway. He enjoys seeing her in her element. 

There’s another guy standing beside a keyboard, his head tipped back, eyes shut. He seems to be enjoying the music, the energy and the vibe in the room. His hair seems to be a dishwater blonde, but his front fringe is dyed an eccentric red, much brighter than Mila’s natural auburn. He’s tall, Yuri notes, and his fitted shirt and trousers reveal his toned body. 

Yuri’s eyes move to the singer last and the air seems to get sucked out of his body because _holy shit_ , he is so _fine_. Better than fine actually, the guy looks like Adonis. Inky black hair styled in an undercut, stoic, sharp features currently focused completely on the song that’s playing, lush pink lips moving as he belts the song out in a deep, husky, slightly raspy voice, and a built that’s thick but not overdone, Yuri makes sure to drink in every detail he can. The man’s even wearing eyeliner, and as his fingers move across the fret board of his shiny black and red guitar, Yuri notices the black nail paint as well. His fingers are littered with tattoos, and he’s wearing a black tank top, revealing muscled arms that make Yuri’s mouth go dry. 

He’s almost upset that Sara failed to mention just how _hot_ her singer is. 

Tearing his eyes away from the singer with some difficulty, Yuri finally tunes into the song, and he startles a little when he realizes he actually recognizes it as John Mayer’s _Who did you think I was_. 

The fact that the band is pulling of a Mayer Trio track makes them pretty damn awesome in his books. 

The song comes to an end a few seconds later, the two guitarists raising their instruments while Sara throws her sticks up only to catch them expertly. She flashes her band mates a blinding smile before her eyes land on Yuri, and her face lights up again, to the extent where Yuri cant not smile in return. 

“You came,” she squeals, jumping off the seat and running towards Yuri, launching herself at him. Yuri receives her with an _Ufff_ , the air leaving his lungs in a rush. 

“Can’t…. breathe…” he wheezes out, tapping her shoulder. She pulls away and smiles again, her eyes sparkling. 

“Well?” she asks, shaking him a little. “What did you think?” 

“Not bad,” he says honestly, laughing when Sara pouts. “I was kidding! You guys are great, I mean, you played a Mayer song and made it sound almost as good as the original.”

Sara grins smugly, and Yuri gives her a well-deserved fist bump. She immediately whips around and links their arms together, dragging him closer to the band. 

“Ok guys! This is Yuri Plisetsky, my classmate and bestie. Yuri, this is Leo,” she points at the bassist, “this is Minami,” the guy with the red fringe waves, “and this, is Otabek.” The singer looks at Yuri with curious, almost wonderous eyes, and Yuri feels the heat rise in his cheeks. He greets them all with a shy wave, his grip on Sara tightening. 

“Ok, it’s about 7 now. How long are we practicing?” 

Otabek looks up from his guitar, “I have a thing later, so I’m leaving by 8.” His speaking voice is more quiet, almost emotionless but still deep. Yuri could listen to him ramble for hours. 

“Ok then, we’ll break at 8:30,” Sara says, moving back to her seat. “Minami, we need to work on your timing anyway. Leo, you can leave with Al.” 

Leo flashes her a peace sign, and begins fine tuning his guitar. Yuri takes his seat again, pulling out his laptop in the process. He begins to code just as the band repeats the song, nodding his head to the beat. He fights every instinct that is screaming at him to look up and stare at Otabek, to imprint the cut of his biceps and the sharpness of his jaw into Yuri’s brain, but the one time that he’d succumbed to his basal need, he was surprised to notice that Otabek was looking at him too, quite intently. He’d averted his gaze immediately, but that didn’t stop Yuri from ducking his head behind his screen to poorly cover his reddened cheeks. 

At 8 sharp, Otabek places his guitar in a bag and picks up a helmet from the side of the room, telling Leo he has an extra one on the bike. Yuri near melts into a puddle at the mention of a bike, and he almost wants to follow the man outside and take a picture. He’s sure his instagram followers would appreciate that on their dashes. 

“I’ll walk you to the café,” Sara says, watching Minami adjust his keyboard settings, “so you just finish up that game, alright?” 

Yuri nods and shifts his focus back to the screen, enjoying the soft music in the background. Without Otabek around, he’s able to focus better, so he gets a significant amount of work done before Sara gently shakes him, telling him it’s time to leave.

They take a shortcut back to the mainroad after locking up, and when Ben’s comes into view, Yuri realizes he has about 2 minutes left. Turning to face Sara, Yuri gestures to his entire body.

“Well?” 

Sara appraises him slowly, face splitting into a smile. “You look gorgeous and if I weren’t gay as hell, I’d be hitting on your right about now.” 

Yuri’s wearing his favorite leopard print jacket with a plain black tee, fitted black jeans and some sneakers. There’s a single pendant hanging around his neck, a gift from Katsuki and Viktor before he came away to college, and he hasn’t taken it off ever since. Sara gives him a quick hug before pushing him in the direction of the café. 

“Go,” she mouths, making a shooing motion. Yuri waves her off and walks to the front door. He sucks in some deep, calming breaths that do not help at all, and says _Fuck it all_ before pushing the door wide open and stepping in. 

His eyes scan the place immediately, looking for a sum 41 shirt. He hopes and prays that the person isn't _too_ weird, or a serial killer, and he hopes this isn’t some stupid prank. That would suck too, big time. 

When his eyes land on Otabek, Yuri stares, long and hard. The man looks fresh, like he’s taken a long shower. His hair is less messy than before, and his elbows are on the table as he leans against his steepled fingers, eyes fixed on the window. Yuri feels his body moving towards the man and grabs the pillar nearby, physically restraining himself from acting on instinct. Otabek sighs softly and leans back, and that’s when Yuri sees it. 

On his white shirt are the words _Sum 41_ printed in large black letters, with two huge arrows pointing down. Yuri feels lightheaded all of a sudden, his grip on the pillar tightening. 

_Oh fuck_ , he thinks. 

Otabek turns to look at him, quirking a finely shaped brow in recognition. It’s like he puts two and two together at the same time and his eyes widen in surprise, an almost hopeful smile on his lips.

“Oh fuck,” Yuri says. 

It’s been under three hours and he’s practically smitten. 

Mila’s never, ever gonna let him hear the end of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [the ffdp song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V1Z-nDvpS1w)
> 
> [my man john's magic](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YfLkO3uwBlQ)
> 
> otabek with a guitar is my aesthetic, amongst other things


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a smidgen of angst in the beginning because i needed to explain a few things but trust me please, this story is fluff incarnate

They’re sipping on coffee, Yuri’s mixed with a little vanilla and Otabek’s with some cinnamon, when the guitarist finally clears his throat and places his mug down, a sheepish smile on his face.

“I, um, I need to tell you something.”

Yuri lowers his own mug, fingers still curled around the handle. The steam rises up and kisses his face softly, the smell of vanilla helping with his nerves. He looks at Otabek expectantly.

“I recognized you, back at the garage, I mean-” Otabek rubs the back of his neck bashfully, “-anyone that’s a fan of ice skating would know what the Russian fairy looks like.”

Yuri feels like he’s been electrocuted, or maybe tasered, or maybe _both_ at the same time because life’s funny like that. It’s been _two years_ ; two years since he landed wrong on the ice and absolutely shredded his right ankle ligament, to the extent where even walking had been a chore.

Of course, ice skating was out of the picture, permanently.

It broke him, to see his life’s passion being snatched away, especially when he’d finally begun to peak. Depression was one of the many side effects of having the ground vanish from beneath his feet, and it took _months_ before he finally sought out professional help and got better, accepting his fate and ultimately, moving on.

Otabek seems to sense his discomfort, and his smile disappears, replaced by a seriousness that makes Yuri’s back go ram-rod straight.

“I’m not mentioning this to pain you in anyway, it’s just that-“ Otabek clears his throat “I didn’t want you to think I was staring at you inappropriately or anything.” Otabek ducks his head, his ears a bright, tomato red. “I’ve always been a huge fan, is all.”

Yuri places his own mug down and covers his face, feeling it heat at an alarming pace. He’s had several fans before- for fucks’ sake, he had his own _fan club_ –but the sincerity with which Otabek proclaims his admiration for him makes Yuri feel unbearably shy. He’s also borderline mortified that he got caught staring at Otabek, but is slightly pacified that he only got caught because he caught Otabek staring in the first place.

It definitely is starting to get a little confusing.

“It’s ok,” Yuri finally says, picking his mug back up and inhaling the wisps of smoke deeply. “I’m glad you liked my work. That part of my life is over, but I’m glad it existed. I did meet some great people.” Viktor and Katsuki’s faces float to the forefront of his mind, and Yuri smiles, a smile that’s reserved for only the two of them and Nikolai. He’s zoned out, so he doesn’t notice Otabek’s sharp intake of breath, or how he seems to hold it till Yuri snaps out of his trance.

“Sara told me you guys were friends, but I never thought I’d get to meet you, not any time soon at least.”

Yuri huffs out a laugh, “She loves the band so much. I had to come by and say hi, see her in her element, you know?”

Otabek grins, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You really like her, huh?”

Yuri blushes again and takes a sip of coffee.

“When I was in the hospital, Sara used to visit a lot. Her brother had met with a terrible accident, so she used to spend time with the both of us. Once he got out, she still visited and then we both realized we were interested in the same things. She helped me study for the entrance exam of this uni. As to why she gave up skating,” Yuri continues to speak, answering Otabek’s silent question, “I don’t know either. I’m not gonna push her into telling me. She’ll tell me when she’s ready.”

Otabek nods, sitting back, his posture and body language relaxed.

“Still,” Otabek muses, staring at Yuri with his usual stoic-ness, eyes dancing with amusement, “what are the odds that we’re neighbors, huh? And, I really am sorry about that night.”

Yuri shakes his head, smiling goofily. “It’s alright, I accept your apology.” He holds the mug higher. “This made up for it just fine.”

Otabek’s mouth quirks up on one side, and Yuri’s heart stutters.

 _Fuck my life_ , he groans to himself.

“So, what are you majoring in?”

Yuri takes a generous sip of coffee before answering, “I’m a computer science major. And you?”

“Oh, you’re a smart one huh?” Otabek sounds impressed, finally picking his own mug up. “I’m majoring in music, which I guess makes sense, considering the circumstances behind this meeting.”

Yuri cackles, “Yeah well, as much as I love _Walk away_ , three o’clock is unforgivable, even if you’re a fan of mine.”

Otabek pouts ever so slightly at him, “You’re gonna hold that against me forever, aren’t you?”

“Oh, for all of eternity, that I can promise,” Yuri declares in glee.

Otabek groans and Yuri laughs harder.

“I’m impressed you know Five Finger though,” Otabek says, changing the subject smoothly. “It’s one of the more obscure bands.”

“What can I say? I’m an enigma.”

Otabek looks at him, really _looks_ at him with the softest smile. “That you are.”

Yuri never thought it possible for him to blush till his cheeks were warm enough to cook omelets on.

“Shut up,” he grumbles softly.

Otabek’s laugh resonates in his skull, filling him with a warmth that’s unbearably sweet.

~

“Ok I need to put this in perspective.”

Yuri slides deeper into the library chair, practically melting in place. “Of course you do,” he sighs, steeling himself.

“You and my lead guitarist and singer are neighbors.”

Yuri nods.

“My lead guitarist woke you up with loud music, and then apologized.”

Yuri nods again.

“Then you guys went on a not-date date and now are friends.”

“I hope so,” Yuri sighs, before back pedaling, “the last part! I hope the last part is true. The friends’ part.”

Sara waves him off, “So now my guitarist and my best friend are befriending each other and eventually they’re gonna fuck an-“

Yuri leaps forward and covers her mouth with his palms, his entire face and neck hot. He’s pretty sure he resembles a cherry.

“Sara!” he hisses, eyes wide as his head whips around, trying to see if anyone heard. “Are you fucking crazy? Don’t just say shit like that!”

Sara licks his palm and Yuri jerks away like he’s been poisoned, pinning Sara down with a withering look.

“That’s so gross, what the fuck?”

“As I was saying,” Sara continues, blatantly ignoring a now flabbergasted Yuri, “you’re gonna bone my guitarist eventually. Now, I know he’s a great guy, and he’s pretty hot, so I should be happy for you, and I am! I really am. But, if it doesn’t work? Whose side do I take? I mean, I love you and all, but he’s in my band, and I love my band and ju-“

“Sara.” Yuri’s rubbing his temples, a sigh of defeat escaping him. Sara finally shuts up, eyes trained on the blonde.

“Stop planning my wedding and listen to me for a minute, ok?” Sara nods and Yuri goes on. “I do think he’s attractive, sure, but he’s barely even my friend, let alone something more than that! We hit it off really well at the café, at least I think we did, but I want to, I mean, I want to be friends with him before anything. Besides,” Yuri looks away, resting his chin on his palm, hoping his face isn’t too crimson. “I don’t even know his preferences, or how he swings or whatever.”

Sara continues to stare at him, and just as it begins to creep Yuri out, she snorts out a laugh and pulls her laptop away from him.

“Figure that out yourself.” She begins scrolling through their program but looks up again, and the light from the screen gives her an eerie look.

“He’s a good guy, and a good friend.” Sara’s hand finds Yuri’s, and she gives it a gentle squeeze. “I’m glad you have someone in that dorm.”

Yuri squeezes back before retrieving it gently and pulling some books out.

He doesn’t have to say it out loud for her to know he’s grateful too.

~

Laundry is simultaneously the worst and best time of the week for Yuri. Clean underwear is something he’ll never take for granted ever again, and he low key loves the smell of fabric softener, but the problem is the laundry room itself.

It any movie production wanted to film a horror movie on campus, they’d probably use the laundry room as is. With dingy, flickering lights, cobwebs and walls painted a depressing grey, the entire area of the building looks like a scene from a really bad horror flick. Yuri hates going there, and he usually waits till he’s in dire need of clean clothing.  
With loud music to keep him company, Yuri squares his shoulders and stands tall, basket full of clothes pressed against his hip. He mouths to the music playing and ignores the clenching of his gut as he reaches the basement, inching towards the stupid room. His plan is simple- dump the clothes in a machine (the place is usually empty around this time), pour his detergent and softener, add some change and run out. He’s already kept a timer ready, telling him when his load will be done. The plan is to be repeated for drying.

He stops just shy of the doorway and his heart is beating too fast. Through his periphery, he can see those stupid cobwebs and those menacing scratches in the paint, and for a second, Yuri swears he can feel something crawl up his spine.

 _Get a fucking grip_ , he scolds himself, bursting through the doors in a fit of courage. A sense of pride fills him, but his celebrations, his well-deserved celebrations come to a screeching halt because life is possibly the most cruel _and_ amazing thing in the world.

Yuri had been lamenting the fact that he’d failed to obtain Otabek’s number when they’d gone on their non-date date. They’d spoken plenty, but when it was time to call it a night, neither of them brought it up. He physically cannot bring himself to ask Sara for it, and he’s ashamed to admit he’s been planning an _accidental_ meeting in the hall to get them talking again. He almost wishes the raven-head would just blast his music again so Yuri can go complain and _then_ get his number.

He never would’ve guessed he’d bump into Otabek in the laundry room. Now, that isn’t a very big deal, not at all, but it does become infinitely harder to control his acute thirst when the man is pulling his shirt off, the sleeves still stuck to his skin, as he gazes at the machine in front of him with a look of concentration.

And they’re alone.

 _Fuck me,_ Yuri thinks, nearly dropping his basket. The implication of his thoughts are most certainly not helping his situation in the least.

Otabek senses his presence and turns towards Yuri, torso twisted while his legs still face the machine, his body contorted in this way where his abs look fucking delicious, even in the haunted setting of the room. There’s sweat dripping down his face and his chest, little drops of salt water that glisten in those flickering lights, and Yuri doesn’t remember how to swallow. Or breathe.

Wait, what’s his name again?

“Hey!” Otabek greets, an easy smile teasing its way onto his lips. Yuri whimpers softly, his knees weak. Why is he so handsome?

“Why are you half naked?”

Yuri hadn’t meant for the question to be voiced out loud, but Otabek chuckles, scratching his cheek with a slightly embarrassed expression. “I realized it was dirty as well, and I was alone, so I thought what the heck, might as well.”

Yuri hates the universe just as much as he wants to thank it profusely.

“Oh, I just thought you were getting it on with the machine. I heard the one you’re using is haunted.”

Otabek raises a brow, “Is that so?”

Yuri nods. “Her name is Ann Mary, and she’s very sensitive.”

“Well,” Otabek murmurs, playing along, “she’s very beautiful. I mean, look at all this shiny, uh, white metal.”

Yuri cant go on because he’s laughing so hard, he cant _breathe_. He sets his basket down and wipes his eyes, smiling at Otabek.

“It’s nice to see you too,” Yuri says, slowly picking the basket back up and heading towards the machine next to Otabek’s.

Otabek shifts to make some space for him. A shame.

“People don’t normally come in at this time,” Yuri continues to speak, slowly dumping his clothes in the machine one by one. “It is a Saturday night. Why are you here?”

Otabek is watching him, hips pressed into the side of his own machine, arms folded across his chest. Looking at them is a mistake Yuri realizes only once it’s too late; Michelangelo’s sculptures have nothing on this guy.

“Well, I had a pretty exhausting week, you know, with practice and classes and stuff. Plus, I don’t really like to party too much. I usually just enjoy DJ-ing.”

Yuri looks away from the machine, gazing at Otabek with surprised eyes. “You’re a DJ?”

Otabek nods, “I just kinda picked it up, it’s really fun. Plus, it helps with the musical creativity and everything.”

Yuri finally adds his last piece of underwear, a black and white piece with checks. He dumps in his detergent and softener before slamming the lid shut and starting the machine up with some change.

“You waiting here for the laundry or-?”

“Oh, I was gonna go back to the room.” Yuri fiddles with his fingers, twisting them together. “This room actually creeps me the fuck out, so I avoid spending extended periods of time here.”

“You too?” Otabek exclaims, looking relieved. “Goddamn, I thought I was the only one. It’s so ghastly isn’t it?”

Yuri nods enthusiastically. “Exactly!”

“Well, in that case, wanna hang out in my room? I mean, I can introduce you to my girlfriend, my laptop Sydney.” Otabek leans in close and adds in a mock whisper, “But don’t tell her that I occasionally mess around with the speaker Tom. He’s just so irresistible.”

Yuri clutches Otabek’s arm to keep himself upright, howling with laughter, faintly hearing it echo through the corridor. He doesn’t see Otabek’s smile, but he realizes that Tom is a guy.

It isnt much of an admission, but it’s something right?

~

“Welcome to my humble abode.”

Otabek’s room is a mirror copy of Yuri’s- a small bed, a cupboard, a desk and a door that leads to the bathroom. But that’s where the resemblance ends.

Otabek’s room is filled with little pieces of his personality. Vinyl records lie in a stack by the desk, some of them propped against the wall. A guitar, the one he used at the garage probably, is on a stand in the corner by the bed, and multitudes of posters line his walls, ranging from sum41 to all time low. His cupboard has some pictures stuck on it, and one of them is with an absolutely precious looking little girl with the curliest hair Yuri’s ever seen. He’s standing right in front of it with his hand hovering over her face before he even realizes he’s moved at all.

“That’s my baby sister, Theora,” Otabek says, the fondness evident in his voice. Yuri glances back and sees Otabek on the bed, collecting what seems to be sheet music and textbooks from the center and stacking them neatly. There’s too much stuff, but the room is undeniably neat. Yuri likes it, immensely. It’s also filled with Otabek’s scent- not over powering but unique nonetheless.

“She’s very cute,” Yuri comments, taking a seat opposite Otabek. Otabek nods, smile so tender Yuri nearly melts into his sheets.

“She’s a ball of energy and sunshine, that’s for sure.” Otabek finally pulls on a shirt and Yuri feels like he can finally _breathe_.

Yuri nods before returning his gaze to the room. That’s when he notices the speakers on Otabek’s desk, large black ones with a blue dial. There’s a typical DJ pad in front of it, and Otabek’s headphones hang on the back of the chair.

“You should tell me the next time you DJ,” Yuri says, still staring at the headphones. “I don’t go out often either, but I’d love to hear you mix sometime.”

He turns back to see Otabek’s pleasantly surprised expression morph into one of flushed happiness.

“Sure,” he says, offering Yuri a sunny smile. Yuri realizes that the man in front of him is very, very bad for his cardiac health.

Otabek clears his throat, “By the way, I was wondering if it’s ok for us to exchange numbers? It’ll make it easier for us to get in touch, unless, of course, you want me to play more loud heavy metal music at the ass crack of dawn?”

Yuri throws a pillow at him, laughing. “Shut up! Here,” he offers Otabek his phone and takes the one offered to him in return.

Once they’re done exchanging info, they fall into a comfortable silence. Otabek stands up in the middle and walks over to the speaker, playing some soft trance. He offers Yuri some orange juice that he accepts gratefully.

They’re sipping juice out of tetra packs when Yuri’s phone rings with his reminder. He curses himself for not silencing it because he wants the moment to last a few minutes longer, it just feels so peaceful.

“The clothes?”

Yuri nods.

They go back down, arguing the whole way about which band has a better singer - Dire Straits, Otabek says, doesn’t have a _singer_ so to speak and Yuri declares _war_ – and when they’re done with everything, drying and folding included, Yuri bids Otabek a solemn farewell and lets the door shut behind him softly. He wants to wallow in the fact that despite spending so much time with him, it doesn’t feel like enough when his phone pings with a new message. He expects it to be either Sara or Mila, confirming tonight’s dinner plans but it’s neither. The sender is one that makes Yuri’s heart pound in excitement.

**Otabek [11:43]**

Hey, thanks for keeping me company during the extremely entertaining task of laundry.

**Otabek [11:44]**

and by that I mean I hate laundry but today wasn’t so bad

Yuri giggles and throws himself onto his bed, burying his face into the pillow and squealing. He feels like the hormonal teenager he’s supposed to be, and truth be told, it isn’t the worst thing in the world.

He fumbles around for his phone, making sure to send a reply before forgetting.

**Yuri [11:46]**

Same here tbh

 **Yuri [11:46]**  

laundry sux ass, but 2day wasn’t the worst

 **Otabek [11:49]**  

I think we can safely come to the conclusion that we must do laundry together from now on

 **Yuri [11:51]**  

i second this extremely weird proposition

 **Otabek [11:52]**  

good

Yuri’s phone suddenly rings, Sara’s ugliest selfie covering his screen.

“Yeah?” he answers, holding the phone against his ear using his shoulder, his hands emptying his bag onto his desk.

There’s some rustling before Sara says, “The usual in fifteen. Mila and Emil will come by a little later.”

“Ok,” Yuri agrees, sifting through his books for the textbook with Otabek’s post-it. He finds it, and after a moment’s thought, sticks it on the wall above his desk. His walls are full of material save for this small stretch of space, and Yuri’s gonna make the most of it.

“Something happened,” Sara declares, the smugness in her voice apparent.

Damn her and her women’s intuition.

“Fuck off.”

Sara laughs, loud and annoying. “You’re in a good mood! In fact, you’re in an _Al_ mood. I’ll hear all about it at dinner, bye Yu-chan.” With that, she cuts the call, leaving behind an embarrassed and rather baffled Yuri.

When he leaves the dorm 7 minutes later, Yuri notices a spot of yellow on his door. He doesn’t stop laughing till he reaches the ground floor, the note safely tucked into his pocket.

_I think I have a thing for my headphones George. How on earth do I face Tom, and worse, Sydney?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i will be projecting my taste in music onto these two thanks


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH RIDICULOUS AMOUNTS OF FLUFF FT PIZZA 
> 
> on a more serious note, i'm projecting so much of myself onto these characters just because im a college student too and i think it's starting to show yikes 
> 
> also, everyone's over 18 but that might count as underage drinking so warning for underage drinking though it's mostly about the after effects and not the drinking itself

Yuri’s face is centimeters away from his laptop screen, mind completely preoccupied by the code that’s slapped all over it when a shout, loud and slightly gurgled, startles him. He jerks violently, his knee pushing up and banging into the underside of his desk. A jolt of pain flares up his leg and Yuri’s vision blurs with tears.

“Fucking, son of a bitch- what the hell?”

The silence from before prevails for a few moments before another yelp, softer but just as annoying, permeates through the wall. Yuri pushes his laptop away and stands up, more agitated than usual. He’s been trying to fix this particular program for two days now, with little to no success. He’s sleep deprived, coffee deprived, and his will to live is particularly low this evening. So forgive him for stomping over to his door and yanking it open, mind set on giving whoever it is a piece of his damn mind.

Except, the minute he’s outside, he sees Otabek standing there, the familiar figure of Minami in his arms, looking loopy as hell. He’s _drunk_ Yuri realizes, his brown eyes glazed over and body limp as Otabek drags him by the pits of his arms, a look of acute annoyance decorating his handsome features.

“What _are_ you doing?”

Otabek looks up guiltily. “I’m sorry, we’re being too loud, aren’t we?”

“I wouldn’t say _we_ ,” Yuri groans, leaning into his door frame. “What happened?” He gestures vaguely at Minami.

“Well, Sara decided to go bat shit crazy and ordered tequila for everyone.”

Yuri’s eyes widen in understanding. “Oh yeah, she does that a lot.”

“I had no idea her tolerance was that insanely high,” Otabek comments, shaking his head. “She outdrank us all, and she could still walk straight.”

Yuri laughs, “That’s Sara for you. Do _not_ challenge her to any drinking competitions, you’re only gonna fuck up your liver and lose money. Katsuki, Viktor and I learned that the hard way.” Yuri shudders when a not so pleasant memory resurfaces to the forefront of his mind.

“Well, this idiot lives two floors below,” Otabek says, grunting at the effort of pulling him along. “I’m just gonna go dump him in bed. Sorry for bothering you.”

Yuri waves him off. “It’s fine, I was frustrated to begin with. This particular subject is very, _very_ annoying.”

“You do look like you could use a break,” Otabek confesses with an easy smile. “Have you had dinner yet?”

Yuri shakes his head.

“Pizza sound good? I could order some to my dorm and we could eat together maybe?”

“Sounds good,” Yuri agrees, slumping further into the door-frame. “Just shoot me a text. If I don’t come in two minutes, presume I’m asleep or dead and bang on the door till I either wake up or come back as a ghost to tell you to shut the fuck up.”

Otabek nods seriously, struggling to fight off a smile, “Sounds like a plan.”

When he’s out of sight and Yuri shuts the door slowly, it finally hits him that it’s kinda sorta _very much_ like a date. Eating dinner, just the two of them, _alone_ , in Otabek’s room.

Yuri would’ve freaked out if he weren’t too tired. The most he can manage is a manly squeal before sinking to the floor, his life force draining out of him slowly but surely.

He grapples around for his phone and punches in a familiar number, watching as the ugly selfie pops up when the device tries to connect his with Sara’s. He lies down on the rug and presses the phone to his ear, curling his knees into his chest.

“Heylo,” Sara greets, sounding cheery.

“Stop being happy, it’s annoying,” Yuri grumbles, eyes sliding shut.

Sara scoffs. “You’re such a delight, you know that?”

“I do,” Yuri reaffirms. “Ok listen, your abundance of happiness and my need to dampen it isn’t the reason why I called. There are other things that currently plague my mind.”

“Pray tell,” Sara says, voice dripping with sarcasm. Yuri makes a whining noise.

“I’m serious.”

Sara sighs. “Fine, fine. What’s up?”

“I have another non-date date with Otabek.”

“And-?”

“ _And_ ,” Yuri stresses, failing to understand why Sara is failing to understand the gravity of the situation, “I don’t know what to do! We’re going to have pizza in his room! This is all your fault, by the way.”

“It’s my fault that you have a non-date date with the guy you’ve been thirsting after?”

Yuri hates it when she twists things like this. “You got that Minami guy drunk and he was being annoyingly loud and I ran into Otabek and he offered to eat with me! So, _your_ fault.”

Sara giggles. “That kid can’t hold his alcohol to save his life.” Yuri hears the sound of papers rustling. “Yu-chan, you’ll be fine! I know you like him and everything, but befriending him is just as important as getting into his pants in the long run. He’s a good guy- get to know him better!” Yuri opens his mouth but Sara beats him to it, “But _not_ through me. Get some information yourself.”

Yuri pouts.

“Stop pouting,” Sara says, “and wear something cute.”

It is in that moment that Yuri realizes he’s wearing just an oversized hoodie and his tiger striped boxers. He sees his soul leave his body and ascend, and a peaceful smile tugs at his lips.

“I have seen the light, Sara.”

“Your boxers will not be the cause of your demise, idiot.”

Yuri wants to die, and Sara laughs.

He hates her, he really, really does.

Except that he totally doesn’t.

~

Sitting on Otabek’s bed in his favorite pair of cat pajamas paired with a fitted plain white tee is a surprisingly fun affair. It’s too late in the evening for Yuri to put any actual effort into his clothing choices, but anything, he realizes, is better than tiger stripped boxers and little else. Otabek doesn’t bring it up, to his delight, and he hopes it stays that way. Something in the darkest recesses of his mind screams at him to avoid being so optimistic though.

“So, how’s college treating you?”

Yuri chews on a large bite of pepperoni pizza thoughtfully. “I always have a lot of work, like a fuckton I’d say, but it’s satisfying to get most of it done.” Otabek nods his understanding. “And you?” Yuri asks, gesturing with his glass of orange juice.

“I’m studying my passion, which in retrospect I’ve come to realize, is a double edged sword.”

Yuri is intrigued. “How so?”

“Well, on the one hand, I feel like I’m not working, just improving and getting better at something I want to do for the rest of my mortal existence. On the other hand, however, when it _does_ feel like work, I’m scared I’ll lose my passion.”

Yuri takes a long sip of juice and tastes it properly before gulping. “Well,” he finally says, “for what it’s worth, I don’t see you as the fickle type at all, so honestly, I think you’re good to go.”

Otabek flashes him one of those illegal half-smiles that makes Yuri’s treacherous heart stumble in his ribcage and he looks away, focusing on some of the vinyl stacked beside Otabek’s desk.

“I didn’t know Minami was in this building,” he suddenly says, changing the subject smoothly.

Otabek visibly grimaces at the mention of the dishwater blonde. “Yes, well, on most days he’s tolerable, but with his capacity, I invariably become his baby sitter when he goes overboard, which is the case every damn time. He’s not just lanky by the way, there’s a lot of bone weight in that thin frame of his.”

“I’m not doubting you,” Yuri giggles, taking another bite of pizza. “Does anyone else that you know live in this building?”

Otabek hums. “Well, Leo lives here as well, three floors above us. But that’s it for the people I know in this building.” He reaches for a napkin and wipes the crumbs away from his cheeks. “And you?”

Yuri shrugs. “We’ve only been here for about a month and a half now, and none of my classmates are in this building. So apart from you, I actually don’t _know_ anyone in this building. Contrary to popular belief, my dazzling presence and invaluable sense of humor does not come with an _easy to befriend_ feature.”

“Well then,” Otabek smiles, “thank goodness for loud FFDP music huh?”

Yuri sticks his tongue out. “Nice try mister.”

“Worth a shot.”

They eat the rest of the pizza that sits between them on a towel in the middle of the bed, Yuri arguing with Otabek about the best game ever to be created.

“… in conclusion, I believe pac man saved humanity from the dark ages.”

“Since you’re a CS major, I’m not sure if you’re dead serious or mocking the hell out of me right now.”

Yuri shakes his head. “I’m dead serious, it really is the best game ever.”

“Well, I’m honestly more of a road rash guy so-“

“That, too, is a wonderful gift to mankind.”

Otabek nods and pushes himself off the bed, picking the cardboard box up. He crumples it in his hands with ease and throws it in the trashcan outside his room, giving Yuri a chance to celebrate internally that this, in fact, is not going so badly.

Otabek’s wearing grey sweats that hang low on his hips, paired with a tight black shirt and some spotted socks. He’s sporting a stubble, which Yuri adamantly refuses to focus on because for the love of all that is good and pure, day old stubble is Yuri’s kryptonite. It’s ridiculously and effortlessly sexy, and _of course_ Otabek pulls it off without batting an eye. Yuri, for his part, tries to swallow down the jealousy that stems from the fact that he cannot, for the life of him, grow any sort of facial hair at all.

Otabek walks in a few moments later, leaving his door slightly ajar.

“Leo just texted me,” he says, waving his phone, “says he’ll drop by for a second to pick up his earphones. Hope that’s ok?”

Yuri nods. “It’s your room, of course it is.”

Otabek flashes him a smile and shuffles around the room a little before taking his seat again. He folds his legs and lets his eyes settle on Yuri, and the blonde feels very self-conscious all of a sudden.

“Is there some pizza sauce on my face or something?”

“No, it’s just that I still sometimes have a hard time believing I’m _friends_ with Yuri Plisetsky. You’re also way cooler than I thought you’d be.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

Otabek chuckles. “Nothing like that, don’t look so offended. I just think-“

“Tabby?” a soft voice interrupts from behind Yuri.

Leo enters the room with an easy smile, brown eyes crinkling at the corners when he lays eyes on the scene before him. His hair is parted in the center and he somehow pulls it off quite well, much to Yuri’s surprise.

“Ahh Leo, this is Yuri. You met-“

“Back at the garage,” Leo finishes, eyes resting on Yuri. “It’s a pleasure to meet you again, Yuri.”

“Likewise,” Yuri mumbles, looking away. He’s never been good with strangers, but somehow Leo seems to sense this and leaves him alone. Yuri appreciates it greatly.

“So, Tabby, earphones?” Otabek points at the desk behind Yuri. “In the first drawer.” Leo rummages around for a moment before a tell-tale _ah hah_ signifies the end of his short search.

“What time do we have practice tomorrow?” Otabek asks, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t think Minami can tell up from down, so he’s gonna have a killer hangover tomorrow.”

“No practice,” Leo informs, coming to stand between Yuri and Otabek. “But we’re all meeting for breakfast. You’re invited as well, Yuri.” Yuri startles at the mention of his name, eyebrows furrowing. “Apparently your friends, Mila and Emil, will be there as well.”

Yuri finally smiles. “Oh ok, sounds good. Thanks Leo.”

“Anytime.” He glances between the two of them with a cryptic upturn on his lips. “I must bid you guys adieu now, I have some assignments to work on. I’ll see you tomorrow yeah?”

The two of them nod in unison and Leo leaves with a final wave, shutting the door behind him.

“Sara can be merciful sometimes,” Yuri finally says, when he sees Otabek still looking confused. Otabek’s hand comes up and he supports his chin between his thumb and forefingers, looking contemplative.

“Is it that easy or does she have some trick up her sleeve?”

“Whoa there,” Yuri says, trying not to burst out laughing, “Sara can be evil incarnate but she’s also an angel in disguise when she needs to be. She doesn’t have any hidden agendas.”

Otabek sighs. “I shall choose to trust you, young grasshopper. May your words hold truth.”

Yuri huffs softly and takes a small sip of juice.

This is nice, he decides, mentally thanking Sara for her almost useless but not completely redundant advice. It’s also nice to finally be able to tell Katsuki that he has an honest to god _friend_ in the dorm. He also decides that telling Katsuki about how hot said friend is, is of no importance whatsoever.

~

Waking up to _Pacman tournament, my room tonight?_ stuck to his door almost makes up for this breakfast Yuri’s currently at. _Almost_.

Breakfast is a quiet affair, at least it’s _supposed_ to be. It’s supposed to be a bunch of people, or a few people, eating their delicious pancakes or waffles or bacon or whatever it is that floats their boat in peace. It’s supposed to be enjoyed in silence, with the quiet sipping of much needed coffee and the gentle clinking of cutlery acting as white noise.

This breakfast is a lot of things; quiet is not even close to being on the list.

“You’re a demon, you know that?”

“I’ll have you know,” Sara says, pointing a syrupy fork at Minami, “that I am Satan incarnate. I refuse to be compared to the likes of just any ordinary demon.”

Minami looks to Leo for help, and finds none.

“Where even is your hangover?” he wails, letting his head meet the white of the diner table with a resounding _thunk_. Minami looks like hell, a ghastly pale complexion taking over most of his face. He’s wearing a beanie to hide the hair he didn’t put any effort into doing this morning, that single red strand standing out in stark contrast to the black of the beanie and the white of the table.

Sara shrugs and places another forkful of deliciously fluffy pancakes in her mouth, a content smile on her lips. “Hangovers elude me.”

Mila is holding her mug of death black coffee between ice cold fingers, warming them slowly, amusement shining in her wide eyes. “So Sara outdrank you all and then some huh?”

Minami looks up and nods miserably. Emil chuckles low in his throat.

“You’re all in the same band, you should’ve heard the stories by now. Sara is not one to be fucked around with.”

Minami throws Yuri’s side of the table a scathing look. “Well, I’ll be sure to remember that from now on, thanks.”

Emil raises his cup of tea high. “Any time, young one.”

Leo doesn’t bother hiding his squawks of laugh, while Mila wolf-whistles and pulls Sara in for a noogie. Emil decides humming the entirety of _Twist and Shout_ at 8 in the morning is an appropriate use of his time and talent and Minami decides to put his head back down, making these whining noises that very closely resemble a hyena.

All Yuri wanted was a quiet breakfast.

There’s a small vibration in his pant pocket that catches Yuri’s attention so he pulls his phone out, hiding an enormous smile behind his palm when he sees the sender’s name.

**Otabek [8:03]**

What is happening?

**Yuri [8:04]**

Welcome to the madnessTM

Otabek looks up from his phone and shakes his head at Yuri, eyes wide and a little lost. Seems like he shares Yuri’s opinion on a general lack of over enthusiasm at breakfast. He sips on his cinnamon coffee, eyes never leaving Yuri.

**Yuri [8:08]**

Id like to apologize on behalf of my side of the table

**Yuri [8:09]**

Theyre idiots bt they mean well

**Yuri [8:09]**

Atleast most of the time

Otabek chuckles and coughs when the coffee presumably enters the wrong pipe. Yuri is torn between howling with laughter and moving to Otabek’s side to pat his back and make sure he doesn’t die. A brief situation where Otabek might need mouth to mouth resuscitation flits through Yuri’s mind and he’s glad he isn't sipping his warm vanilla tinted coffee lest he be choking as well.

**Otabek [8:15]**

Well, mine isn’t any better.

**Otabek [8:16]**

These pancakes are delicious by the way

Yuri beams at that and looks up to see Otabek stuff some more food into his mouth, cheeks puffed like a squirrels’. Yuri resists the urge to pull his phone out and snap a photo for black mail material and for, um, research purposes.

**Yuri [8:19]**

I kNOW RIGHT

**Yuri [8:20]**

This mite seem random btw

**Yuri [8:21]**

But whats your insta handle? Haven’t added you yet

**Otabek [8:23]**

otabek-altin

Yuri looks him up instantly and finds that his account is private. He adds him and receives two notifications almost immediately, one telling him that Otabek has accepted his request and the other telling him that Otabek’s followed him back. Yuri closes the app before he stalks Otabek right in front of him. His dignity may be at an all-time low in the mornings, but Yuri has some standards. Or so he likes to believe.

Mila suddenly smacks him on the back of the head, hand reaching out from behind Emil to do so. “Are you texting Otabek _while_ sitting right in front of him?” She sounds equal parts amused and thoroughly annoyed.

“No?” Yuri says before ducking to narrowly avoid being smacked again. Taking advantage of his lowered guard, Emil snatches the phone from him and holds it out of reach.

“Talk to him,” he urges, handing the phone to Mila. Thankfully it’s locked, and Yuri deleted Mila’s fingerprint from it three days ago, so there’s that.

Yuri grumbles something about shitty friends and his faith in humanity being lost to the wind when Otabek nudges him under the table with his leg.

“So, what’s up?”

Yuri smiles. Breakfast is supposed to be a quiet affair, with silence and white noise and consumption of dangerous amounts of caffeine. It’s supposed to not give Yuri a headache or make him want to question his life choices this early in the morning. But if loud breakfasts’ meant being surrounded by the sugary sweetness of friendly company and the comfortable press of Emil’s warmth to his side and Otabek’s small smile flashing for him and only him every now and then, Yuri thinks he can do loud breakfasts more often.

He cuts another piece of his pancake and grins, “You tell me.”

~

Before making his way to his afternoon classes, Yuri smacks a note onto Otabek’s door and bolts to class, fashionably late as always. He hopes his note makes Otabek smile.

_You’re on. Chocolates and chips on me ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ_

It does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OTABEK O-TAB-BEK TABBY geddit (no seriously, i just wanted leo to call him something cute as hell)
> 
> this au is far too indulgent sometimes. i see rainbows and unicorns everywhere. 
> 
> fun story btw- i had an 8AM class (fuckin kill me) on a Saturday (kill me NOW) and i got up for it at 7:55 and obviously, my building had to be a better part of a kilometer away and i still managed to make it to class only 7 minutes late. To this day i am proud of this accomplishment.


End file.
